


The Picture Is Not Finished Yet

by anxiouslyfred



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Drawing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Low Self Esteem, M/M, Painting, creating together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23417707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiouslyfred/pseuds/anxiouslyfred
Summary: Virgil started drawing to try and reduce his own anxiety before ever leaving the Dark sides.Now Roman and everyone has been neglecting his secondary function as the Ego and Virgil tries to help when he reaches a breaking point
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	The Picture Is Not Finished Yet

“So pick up a pencil, a stencil a crayon, the picture is not finished yet.”

Virgil first started trying to calm down using art when Thomas sang those lines during the Ultimate Storytime Tour. If you hear and say something often enough then sooner or later it begins to have an affect after all.

That was how Virgil had always reasoned it out, from the first time he tentatively tried to draw with Remus only to leave in a hurry over all the comments and suggestions the other would make. That had been the only time he had tried to draw around anybody else.

Now all the Sides knew him and Thomas had accepted his presence, even enjoyed it occasionally but they all thought it was the fidget toys that he used to remain calm. He kept the drawing a secret, only using it to relax when alone in his room, putting the pencils and books away carefully whenever he used them.

That changed when Roman broke.

Among the light sides it had always been an accepted fact that each side stood for more than just Logic, Morality or Creativity, but they all failed to act that on a daily basis. They’d revert back to focusing on their title roles, letting the rest just carry on behind the scenes unless a big enough issue cropped up.

Virgil had been used to looking for and remembering the things Deceit and Creativity did that weren’t covered in their titles. Forgetting could come with threat of being clubbed among them after all. He still missed some of the early signs that the Ego was failing.

Then Roman didn’t show up a week after he’d stopped singing and the day Virgil had finally pulled some courage to try and bring it up. It would almost be going against his own title role to help here but nobody else had been reacting yet and all he could do with subtlety was make a few drinks without being asked.

He stood outside the door to Creativity’s room, taking in the differences to Remus’s door. Where one had splinters the other had perfectly sanded wood, where one was covered in paint splatters one had musical notes carved together. 

Finding a common ground to reach out to Roman had been difficult before Virgil saw his sketchbook, but actually admitting what it was for was difficult. So he just stood outside the door, hoping the words you come.

Instead of anything new to say the song came back to him once more, the one which first started Virgil’s attempts to draw out his worries. “You can let someone else tell you your story, you can let someone else tell you what’s true, or you can set yourself free, climb the tallest highest tree or maybe sit back and take in the view.” He spoke the words, not wanting to sing if Roman hadn’t been.

A song was still his reply. “Yes you can let yourself let yourself do Anything.”

Roman opened the door a moment later, traces of tears still visible on his face and his expression was tentative, but curious as he looked at Virgil through the crack he allowed it to open. “If you’re trying to serenade me, aren’t you meant to sing?” 

“Actually I was trying to ask if you wanted to draw for a while.” Virgil shrugged, holding up the sketchbook, “And maybe see how you’re actually doing.”

“Anxiety … draws?” Roman paused, furrowing his brow as he took in the information, but did open the door just enough to let him in. “Since when?”

It was easy to let his question be ignored for a moment, just finding a spot on the carpet he could fold himself onto. Instead of replying Virgil opened the sketchbook to the first page, on he had actually dated the picture on though that idea hadn’t remained.”Since the tour, although I’m hoping you’ll be easier to draw around than the green fool. 

Roman laughed a little at that, looking at the picture and the parts that clearly had to have been suggested by his brother. “I’m not up to giving any suggestions at the moment so probably.”

“We’ve not been looking after the ego much recently, have we?” The disparaging comment was enough for Virgil to bring up the most concerning thing to bring him to Roman’s room.

No reply was heard, and for all the various paints, pencils, felt tips, fine liner pens and anything else that could be used to draw being summoned there didn’t seem to be one forthcoming.

The only colouring item left out from their new hoard was crayons or something for Roman to draw on. The second thing Virgil easily rectified, placing his sketchpad between them, and offering Roman a fine red pen. “Why don’t you do an outline for a hero while I draw something you can be rescuing a fair prince from?” He suggested.

After half an hour of drawing quietly, Virgil looked up in confusion as a drop of water his the page. Some Disney songs had started playing while he was absorbed in their art, but more importantly Roman was starting to cry and Virgil was only just in time to stop the hand about to scribble through the hero drawn on the page.

“There’s a wonderful picture there, and a lovely prince across from me, so can I take that pen back while we calm down?” Virgil spoke quickly, hoping the compliments would at least calm Roman a little.

“But it’s horrible!” Roman protested, still trying to destroy whatever he’d drawn until he was wrestled into a hug. 

Wrapping his arms around the other tightly enough to still the fight, Virgil sighed. “Now if I were Patton I’d probably tell you to stop insulting my friend but all I want to do is point out you’ve literally got me working against my role right now. Leave the anxiety to me, Princey.”

“I can’t even create well.” The words were small, a quiet insecurity that had lurked for too long without being given a voice.

Virgil glanced back to their picture, one hand coming up to stroke Roman’s hair. “Between Logan’s words and Patton’s encouragement it does seem you don’t get the right level of creative support here sometimes, but the picture is not finished yet.” He sighed, tempted to summon Deceit who was always better at finding the right words to say. “Don’t judge a story before it’s finished or a painting before it’s done, Especially when you are the one creating it Roman.”

“Thomas deserves perfect creations, perfect Sides.” The protest was weaker now, a clear sign that his words were helping, bolstering the ego Roman seemed to forget he looked after.

“So what, you think I was always perfect? That Deceit and Remus fill those expectations?” The scoff came automatically, but the snicker at Roman’s instant scowl was easy. “Dude, if we don’t need to be perfect cause we get to wear black, then just cause you wear white doesn’t stop you from being allowed imperfections and if it does you’ve given us a whole lot of paint to decorate your clothes with.”

Roman was pulling away then affronted at the idea and only realising he had freed Virgil’s arms when paints were grabbed a second later. “I am a Prince, you street urchin! I cannot run around looking as though the printer exploded on me!”

The affront and bolstered confidence was enough for Virgil to stop focusing on encouraging Roman and make a game of it, laughing as he lunged forwards. “But you can be perfect in more colours Princey. You’re an unfinished painting so get over here for more painting!”

Outside the door Remus heard the laughter and sighed. He’d known something was up with the other half of Creativity and could only be thankful that Virgil had managed to get there in time.


End file.
